Furo

Therapeutic Spa: History, Selection, and Usage

"The classic furo, was a box of hinoki wood, sacred and
fragrant,
with a fire chamber set into one end. The fire was fed from outside with
twigs to transform the water into o-yu (hot water) -- a gradual,
time-consuming process. So the bath fire was lit early, allowing time
for a leisurely soak that would keep one warm till bedtime."

Yuck! The kind of ad that you wince at. The very next day, when I
was working out
at the gym, the television in the corner caught me off guard. Another hot tub
commercial. This touted a completely different company, but was equally
yuck. "The Spa
Guy," had threepneumatic blonds rather than two stroking his hairy pelt
and making cooing gestures at his generous stomach.

As I groaned with the effort of moving a stack of iron plates up and down it dawned on me that the Hot Tub Culture,
here in New England, was perhaps not as advanced as it was back on the Left
Coast, the land of fruits and nuts as they refer to California around here. These two
commercials are probably not statistically representative, but they contributed to the
blank stares that I'd gotten from my new Yankee friends when I joyously reported the progress
of the arrival and installation of the new spa that I had recently ordered. Besides, there was the "23-Effect."
I mean okay, first
two girls, then three girls, "2 + 3,
23!."Think about it!

In California, the hot tub is an accepted part of the general healthculture
that evolved in the early 1980's and has matured into a deeply ingrained lifestyle
and a multi billion dollar a year industry. Having access to a hot tub,
whether through a health club, or having one in your home, is considered almost a necessity
of normal life. I bought my first hot tub, a used clunker for ($300 U.S.) before
I bought my second car.

In New England, by contrast, hot tubs are associated to sex and sleaze (and
baldness I reckon). I find this genuinely sad since the New England winters can be so
mind-numbingly long
and dark and cold. My goal here is to help shine some light on this area
and share what I've learned about the art and science of therapeutic bathing.

A short history

Hot therapeutic baths have been an important part of many cultures, and the
idiosyncrasies
of each have been reflected to some extent in their approach to bathing. The
Romans, perhaps best represent one endpoint in the refinement of social bathing,
where "The Roman Baths" were a place to see, be seen, and make the
scene. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Japanese approach to
bathing was more of private a family affair. Japanese towns sometimes have
public baths, for example I visited one in Yokohama, but of the first luxuries a
Japanese family might consider investing in is a proper bath.

Although the pleasures of a long leisurely soak are intuitively obvious,
the health benefits of therapeutic bathing have only recently been generally
acknowledged by the medical community. Doctors now generally recognize spa
bathing as beneficial in controlling chronic diseases like high blood
pressure, arthritis, and even diabetes. Being surrounded completely by hot water
increases your circulation and causes your blood vessels to dilate. Oxygen and
nutrients rush to aching muscles as toxins leave your system. Your stress level
and blood pressure both drop, and since you weigh almost 90% less in water your
body and muscles relax. The heat also allows your joints to work more
freely which is why the Arthritis Foundation recommends therapeutic bathing for
managing arthritic symptoms.

Up until the 1960's the high art of
bathing in America primarily centered around a handful of therapeutic spas such as
Calistoga Springs in northern California, Hot Springs, Arkansas, Saratoga Springs in New York, and
Warm
Springs in Georgia. This state of affairs began to change when a group of
friends out in Santa Barbara, California utilized the natural hot springs in their area to create the
uniquely Californian "hot tub." As if to permanently dispel the
notion of a hot soaking being the exclusive province of the wealthy, these early
hot tubs were constructed of an amazing array of "repurposed,"
materials, old wine vats, huge concrete culverts, riveted steel boiler
tanks. Some of these worked better than others as you might imagine.
My personal favorite from that era was a giant oak tub that comprising the bottom
five feet of an oak tank from a local winery. This monster was almost
ten meters in diameter and had been sawn to size
with a
chainsaw, buried in the ground by a back hoe, and was now constantly replenished by
a local hot spring that flowed into the tub from a wooden flume on one side, and
overflowed as a little babbling brook that burbled down a stony creek through the grassy meadow.

Word of these experiments in Santa Barbara made their way
south to the City of Angels, LA, where they were quickly seized on by the large
population of swimming pool contractors eager to offer something new to an
affluent and self-indulgent populace. Gunite spas became the standard, mostly because that's what
the swimming pool crews knew how to build. These "pool spas" were difficult to build,
costly, and a headache to maintain. They were followed in short order by the first
thermoplastic molded spas, inaugurating the next chapter in the evolution of
therapeutic bathing.

For many years a debate of sorts raged between the "purists," who
felt that the craftsmanship and classic beauty of a wooden tub (typically redwood or
cedar) trumped the many
obvious benefits of a molded plastic self-contained spa that came complete with an easily
maintainable filter system and hydromassage jets. For the most part,
that debate is over and the low cost, much improved aesthetics and practicality
of the modern "portable" spa has come to dominate the field. Modern spas
are fairly inexpensive, don't require any special floor
or deck framing for support, can be wired directly into a normal house electrical system
and are almost trivially easy to maintain.

So, let's say that you've decided to take the plunge, so to speak, and visit
Norrie the Spa King. Here's what to look for in a modern spa:

First of all, before you even get in the car to go shopping, make sure
that your home can accommodate a spa. You need an area at least 2.4 x
2.4 meters for a medium sized spa, and at least 3 x 3 meters for a large spa. Water weighs 3.8 kg
per gallon, so a
medium sized spa will tip the scales at around 1364 kg.
That is a lot of weight, but it's spread evenly over the entire bottom
surface of the spa. Most modern spas are designed to sit on a normal
wooden framed deck or floor. If you aren't sure, have a carpenter look
it over and decide if some extra bracing is in order. If you plan to
set your spa on a concrete slab, you should be fine. The electrical
requirements are typically 240 volts AC, at 30 amps over a four- wire GFCI
service. Find a bonded and licensed electrician and pay them to
do the job properly. As far as locating
the spa goes, when I bought my first one from my pal Dutch, he gave me a valuable piece of
advice that I'll pass on to you: "put it as close to
your bedroom as possible."

Now let's consider tub material. Most spas are made of acrylicplastic. Acrylic is the shiny slick stuff that comes in a million swirly
colors. It's the pink weirdness plastic that our friend Norrie, the Spa
King, was
lounging in when we met him, although there are many colors available and
some are quite attractive. Early acrylic spa shells had blistering problems
and dark colored versions got hot enough in the sun to burn you,
badly. They were also a little tricky to clean because any abrasive
agent, or even a textured sponge would mar the shiny finish. Acrylics
have gotten better over the years, and are an acceptable choice, unless
you live in a really cold place like I do. If you live somewhere where
it snows often, you might want to consider the softer and more flexible
plastics that are now being offered as an alternative to acrylic. They
seem to hold up better under the extreme thermal stresses that result at the
boundary of your hot water and that blizzard blowing in from Canada. An
good example of this type of spa is the UltraLife series from Dimension One1.

Next, let's consider jets. Norrie is likely to spend a lot of time telling you about the number
and type of jets in each model in his showroom. Don't listen.
Any modern spa is going to have an adequate supply of these things, and truth be
told, they are as much of an annoyance as a boon in the long
run. The problem with spa jets is that after a minute or so they start
to hurt rather than relax. They are either too hard, or too soft, or
they're not in the right spot... It's always something. And when the
jets are on, so is the noisy pump, further disturbing the peaceful
feeling. I'd only make one exception to this, spa companies have
recently begun adding jets in the floor of the spa specifically to massage the
feet. This is a worthwhile feature and you will be delighted to
discover out how sensitive your feet are.

Size does matter, and it's the next thing to consider here. My ready
recommendation is that you buy the smallest spa that meets your needs. After the
novelty wears off,
and you get over inviting your friends to try your new toy, you'll likely
find that you need less spa than you expected.
Don't let Norrie sell you the eight-person, three pump 450 gallon Godzilla
Maru model. This is way more water, more electricity, more chemicals and
more headaches than you need. For most people, a 4-5 person tub that
uses under 300 gallons is perfect.

Insulation is another hallmark of a high quality spa. Cheaper spas
are insulated by spraying some foam insulation directly on the under side of
the tub providing a couple of inches of brown glop to keep the hot side
hot and the cold side cold. This is less expensive for the spa manufacturer, but you will pay
for it in additional energy costsforever. If you look underneath a high quality spa, you'll find that the
entire shell around the tub has been completely filled with polyurethane foam
insulation,
creating a strong, clean and super-efficient base for the spa. I'll
offer a clear recommendation here, don't buy a partially insulated
spa.

The heating element for the spa should be capable of raising the
temperature 3 to 5 degrees C. per hour. This will allow you to
change the water in the morning and still use the spa when you return from
work that evening.

Most spas now come with an insulated rigid foam cover that folds back and
out of the way when you aren't using it. The better quality covers are
tapered from a ridge in the center to thinner edge. This strengthens
the cover and sheds rainfall. If you live in an area where it snows,
be sure to pay the extra money for a "high-density foam," spa
cover. The weight of wet snow will crush the normal ones faster than
the EDB eats newbies.

To ozonate or not to ozonate? Ozone is still a relatively new
development in the spa world, and despite what Norrie tells you, it's not a
completely proven technology yet. Every spa needs some method of disinfecting the water and
oxidizing any organic materials not trapped in the filter.
Traditionally, a halogen chemical like chlorine or bromine in the form of
tablets was distributed through the water using a floating dispenser like
you see in some private swimming pools. Ozone gas has been used for many years in
Europe as a disinfectant in municipal water systems, and as the cost of
ozone generators came down, it
became practical for use in spas. The early attempts however were a
disaster. Ozone is a very strong corrosive agent and the first ozone-equipped spas were literally eaten from the inside out as the rubber
seals in the pumps and valves and hose fittings dissolved. In some
cases, the ozone generators themselves malfunctioned, causing ozone levels
in the water to reach levels that posed health risks to the occupants.
This was a very bad thing, and for awhile Norrie stopped touting ozone as a
selling point. Then, in the mid 1990's ozone was back, just like
that. No explanations, no apologies, no remorse, just the same sales
pitch they used the first time around, "less chemicals, softer water,
less hassle." Who knows, perhaps they've gotten it right this
time around. I've always used bromine. It's safe, it's easy, it
doesn't stink, it doesn't break and it works.

Finally, make Norrie give you a copy of the warranty and read it
carefully. A good warranty should cover the spa shell
for as long as you own the tub, and all plumbing, pumps and electrical
components for at least five years, parts and labor.

But, what about the furo you might reasonably ask? Can this insulated
ozonated 240 volt plastic
marvel hope to rival the Goemonburo experience? That is an astute
question, and it deserves a thorough answer. Modern spas are fairly inexpensive to purchase and operate, easy to
setup and maintain. The higher, quality spas are even fairly attractive in
a utilitarian sort of way. Obviously there are some trade offs to be made
between aesthetics and practicality here.

But as far as whether they provide the spirit of the furo, well, you be the judge.

It's four o'clock in the morning and it's still snowing lightly
outside. I've been working on this for the last two hours and my feet are
cold. In fact, my toes are almost numb, but it's the kind of low level
pain that passes without notice. You don't realize how cold and stiff your
body is, until you thaw it out and loosen it up. I'm going to take a break to
visit my home's furo and take you along in my head. You can decide for yourself
whether this is Goemonburo-esque nirvana, or post modernist yuppie babble.

Now I'm outside, momentarily naked and shivering in the light wind and fluffy snow
flurries. It's really cold and my skin is prickling as the snow crystals
melt against it. Not so much nasty as weird feeling and I don't plan to be
standing here long anyway. I flip back the upholstered foam cover, slip into the hot, clear water.
I am instantly transmogrifed. I keep the water temp in this spa at 47°
C. (106° F.), which is
on the high end for Americans, but the low end for Furo. It's not my habit
to lounge for hours in the spa, a half an hour of bliss is the usual
scenario. I'm here to pray, not to party, and the excess heat means that my body's
core temperature is going to get a serious blast of thermal juice. It also means that when I get out of the tub, I will walk
triumphantly through the snow, with my arms held high above my head, and white
steam pouring off my body.

In the meantime though, I slip completely under the water,
floating, so that only my face is exposed to the air. Above me there is
a
wonderful panorama of weather. The dark winter sky is filled with a
million stars, and the last patchy clouds are hurtling across the sky like rush
hour in the HOV lane. The snow that falls on my cheeks and nose is just
the last dusting that this storm can muster before it flies out across the Atlantic
Ocean, yesterday's weather. The thick, yellow trail of a falling
star greets me as I rise from the water into a sitting position and activate the
jets by pushing a little button on the spa. There are different jets in each
of the five seats in this spa. If you've got the time, you can get a
pretty complete hydromassage by just doing a rotation at each seat. But
tonight, I don't have the time for all that, so I just sink into the seat I'm in and let that
swirling jet of hot water dig it's probing little finger into my stiff neck. One of those private,
almost embarrassing, groans of pleasure
escapes my lips involuntarily, and it makes me snap back to attention, cause I
don't want to drift off into reverie.

Epilog

But then I came back up here & facing me was this half finished work, and
I sure as hell can't go to sleep now anyway. So, please don't be pissed at
me for finishing this up now and just posting it as it is. I guess it's my
own little bit of the story, and it's as real and heartfelt as any of the
others...

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1IMODimension One is the best spa made today: http://www.d1spas.com/2 A great book on Japanese bathing: Furo, The Japanese Bath by Grillin & Levy ISBN: 0-87011-601-0